A Perfect Disaster
by Lunacy1111
Summary: Set on Nick & Carla's wedding day in 2016. There was an interruption, but it was the wrong Barlow. What happens when Peter crashes the wedding? Note: this is a Carter story. Narla fans are probably not going to be happy. Rating it for the future, but this will be K or lower for now.
1. Chapter 1

Carla stood in front of Nick in her perfect wedding dress. Hair and makeup perfect. As if all that perfection; the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect day could somehow cover up the ugly secret hidden under it all. The sparkling perfection that was about to be smashed into a hideous disaster. Something that felt more real to Carla than any of the perfection. She had tried to warn Nick she was a disaster, but he had never truly understood anything about her and that was no exception. She never expected she would be spending her wedding day in the middle of the kitchen at the Bistro. About to drop the big bomb she had been desperately trying to hide. Or had she always meant to press self-destruct and blow up this perfect life. One that she perhaps didn't yearn for quite as much as she proclaimed. One that she didn't actually ache for in her bones. She was SUPPOSED to want it. It was the smart thing. The easy thing. The safe thing. The thing that everyone was expecting. And why wouldn't they. Nick was the furthest thing from that charming roguish cheating alcoholic ex-bookie ex-husband of hers. So far that he couldn't possibly make her miss him more than she already did. Every day.

Peter Barlow. Just letting his name frolic through her brain made her body shiver in response. Nick was the better one. The calmer one. The perfect one. He treated her well, everyone said. Well if you were to disregard the disappointment and barely contained disgust he leveled at her when she didn't measure up to his expectations. When she drank. When she was that little bit too loud or argumentative. When she failed. For all their fights and tantrums and slamming doors, for all the pain he had caused her, Carla couldn't ever think of a time that Peter had looked at her with such disdain. Or made her feel like a failure, at least not until she managed to drive him away, until she wasn't enough. But even after he broke them, he still looked at her with nothing but adoration right up until the devastating day they walked away from each other.

All those months ago with Kylie, her words came back to her, haunted her.

_"__Content"_

_"__He is perfect for me"_

But were those things even real. PERFECT. CONTENT. Like really deep down was that even real at all. Or just superficial. Pretty. An illusion. So safe that it couldn't make you REALLY feel it. Not enough to risk slicing your heart to pieces.

_"__I always went for the bad boy. The fights, the making up"_

_She struggled to deny the way just the words stirred up her insides in a way that she couldn't control. Barely managing to keep the smile from forming at the flash of memory. Lingering on the making up._

_"__He is the one that's going to save me" she confided to Kylie, "from myself"._

But did she even want to be saved. By Nick. From her actions that she had been running in circles to keep hidden, it would seem she was intent on making that impossible. She had lit their life on fire, and was waiting for the inevitable, when he left her all alone.

But these thoughts were all hidden at the back of her mind. Pushed so far into darkness there was only a prick of light to illuminate them.

Along with the dreams she had been having all week.

But that was for another time. Right now she was unburdening her soul to the man she called perfect for her, and clinging on to the illusion of a perfect safe calm life.

"This is typical Carla. Can't let herself be happy. Can't let someone love her. That is always looking for a way to destroy things" Nick droned at her, his voice dripping with self-assuming knowledge of what made her tick. Carelessly throwing out her insecurities like they meant nothing. Carla had stood at the alter with him moments before and stopped the proceedings. Nick held no fears that he was about to lose her. His voice was not gentle or caring, or even pleading. He felt superior, fully aware how much she had come to depend on him. For everything. He had scooped her up from the lowest of lows. Been at her side when others showed scorn. He had fallen for her, surely. Who wouldn't. Showered her with affection, made her feel loved again. Lovable. And at the same time, made her rely on him for those feelings. That sense of safety. And was rewarded in the way she looked at him with adoration. If Nick were the reflective type, if he were honest with himself, he would admit he allowed Carla to believe he was better than her, better than anyone. Certainly that loser ex-husband that shattered her heart. That she needed him to feel whole again. He built a little perfect cocoon around them. An easy, comfortable, calm, safe life. But Carla was made up of a myriad of cracked pieces, carefully pressed together. And no amount of calm could prevent those pieces from breaking off, sending Carla spinning beyond his control. The façade was perfect, as he attempted to save her again and again, his practiced caring smile in place, that didn't quite reach his eyes. Barely managing to conceal the weariness of her self-destruct tendencies. Nick tried his best to will Carla into being the pristine blissful transformation he envisioned, but even cracks spackled over with gleaming bright paint are still cracks. And cracks crumble until they break apart everything around them.

Something in the back of Carla's mind screamed at her that Nick didn't understand these things about her at all. Her head pounded in frustration at the condescending tone of voice. Yet again flashed the dream in her mind. That Man. This Day. The way her heart pounded anxiously as she had sent up silent prayers. But she pushed those things to the very back of her mind. Hard. And prepared to unleash her secret. And beg THIS man not to leave her alone again.

Her eyes cast downward, Carla could barely stand to look at him. "I slept with someone" Nick is silent, disbelieving. "Honestly I've been tortured" she brokenly admitted, all the guilt pouring out. Nick didn't care.

"WHO" he shouted at her.

"Robert" she admitted, apologizing over and over. "He regretted it afterwards just as much as I did" Carla promised Nick, trying to assure him, clinging onto the future she saw slipping away.

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW HE FELT ABOUT IT AFTERWARDS, DON'T YOU DARE" Nick roared, slamming against the shelving next to him, metal clanging to the floor.

Carla gathered everything in her to quiet the fear leaping up in her at the outburst. It had been years since her attack and she had come a long way. It happened much less often, but loud noises could still make her jump. Angry men. She forced herself to stay as still as possible. Frozen. She simply nodded at Nick. He strode toward her, firing questions at her, not giving her a chance to answer. And then finally she was begging him to forgive her, to start again. She couldn't lose him. He was all she had.

"I know I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you" Carla cried to Nick, and she believed it.

Nick ignored her. "How could I not see it. I'm an idiot" he lamented.

"I'm the idiot" Carla assured him "I'm begging your forgiveness now. Please please give me another chance" she pleaded desperately.

Nick dismissed her with "Go. Leave me alone. Go."

Carla emotionally refused to accept it, "I won't give up," she promised him, "I'm going to go out there and wait for you" Her heart crumbling as he let her walk away. Yet another man she had pushed too hard. Yet another person to give up on her. Different man, but same life. Sitting perfectly still, Carla held her mask in place, surrounded by Platts like a pack of ill-behaved wolves.

"She should be over here explaining herself, not sat there like Cruella DeVille with a migraine" huffed Gail.

"She looks proper dramatic" Bethany exclaimed raising her phone for the perfect shot of her misery.

As Carla finally stood to annouce the wedding was off, she tearfully stated "It's my fault. Nick deserves better" her hopes for the happy future she knew she didn't deserve dissolving into nothing.

And then Nick strode in, stating "Let's get married" and for that moment, Carla clung onto hope. She could feel happy. She could feel safe. For once, it wasn't slipping through her grasp. And then it happened.

They were taking their vows, when her voice rang out. "Yeah, I've got objections" Tracy. Of course it was Tracy. Her heart sank. She was going to tell Nick the rest of it. The lies. The money. Her safety net was being pulled away, and her life crashed down around her. And that wasn't even the thing that REALLY made her heart sink to the floor. It was the wrong Barlow.

She had dreamed of it all week. This beautiful day smashed to smithereens. That man. Peter Barlow. That man who against every reason, despiste every bit of her strength, was the love of her life. And the futile prayers she sent up. Were not please don't let it happen. They were please please Peter.

As Tracy announced her betrayal to everyone, and went on to describe her other sins, the second voice rang out and everyone turned to look at the man they knew. The man that no longer lived in Weatherfield. Everyone but Carla. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. It was the man she had dreamed of all week.

"SHUT UP, TRACY"


	2. Chapter 2

"SHUT UP, TRACY"

He came.

Carla prayed that Nick didn't see the way her face had surely lit up. He was staring at her like he was waiting for her to respond. Shit. Tracy. "Y—es" she stammered, she did give Tracy the money for the Bistro, as if it was the worst crime committeed in the world. It's not like she burned down a building. Okay maybe bad example. She did try to covince Nick to move to Devon, but that was all part of the same mistake. Even Carla knew how pathetic it sounded.

"Lies and lies and lies. Do you do anything but lie? Oh right, YOU CHEAT. I don't even know when you're lying and when you're telling the truth. You look exactly the same"

Carla had finally turned away from Nick. He was still spewing vitriol at her, but she no longer heard the words as his lips moved in a sneer. No longer able to ignore the man at the back of the room. The one everyone in attendance had been gawking at. Now all eyes were on Carla. She had thought so often of what she would do the next time she saw Peter. Somehow it never really was an if in her mind. She would turn away from him and walk away, like he wasn't everything that mattered. She would glare holes into him, as if he didn't know every single mask she wore by heart. She would pound his chest with her fists, for breaking them, for making her weak for him, until she could pound him out of her heart. But it was nothing like this. Their eyes were glued to the other. The breath was snatched from her chest. And somehow she was moving toward him before she was even aware.

He was moving closer to her. The woman he hadn't caught sight of since he drove away in the cab last year. Hadn't spoken to since that day with Simon. _"Not if I see you first" _And here they were. Their gaze had not wavered. He had expected fire and anger. Screaming and insults. Mile high defenses in place. But not this. Her light green eyes had fallen into his the moment they set eyes on each other. All her defenses crashed to the ground. All the pain and struggle of the last year etched into her face. The conversations they never had flowing between them, as if their souls had briefly touched. "I wanted to be there," he felt like he needed to explain, not even seeing all the people huddled around them. His chest clenching the same as it had when he heard about the fire and everything after it, when he saw the reaction in her face. Knowing immediately what he meant without explanation, the way she had needed him painting her features, making his heart crumble. "Chelle convinced me to stay away and let you be happy. Not wreck your life again. I didn't think I could see you…", staring brokenly toward Nick. "But I should have come"

Carla didn't know how to remain on her feet. The aching for Peter to come back to hold her, all the times she had secretly wished for it, the torture in Peter's eyes as he paid any attention to the man getting married for the first time; it was like a weight on her that nearly crumpled her to the floor. But not here. Not with these people whispering and staring. No tears would fall here. She should not feel Peter's pain. She should relish in it, he deserved nothing less. Yet it was like a knife in her heart. She had imagined Peter knowing about Nick. Imagined feeling triumphant, that he would feel the same pain. That he would scream endlessly at the very thought. His mind would be polluted with images of Nick, like hers was of Tina. That she would feel peace. There was no peace. All she could think of was everything they lost. Shaking it off, keeping her rattled emotions under cover, Carla smirked at him, "You chose then to do what you're told" She didn't turn to look at Michelle, although she knew exactly where she was. Could feel her frozen presence, waiting for the explosion. Partly because she was afraid she would throw herself at Michelle in fury for what she had done. The chance Carla secretly harbored deep in her heart that she had taken away. Mostly because she couldn't bear to tear her eyes from Peter's. The way he looked at her.

In the next moment, the smile fell from her face, and her eyes widened. No one else saw what Peter did, as he started to move quickly toward her. The fury spreading through her body, framed in the white dress.

"GET BACK HERE, CARLA" Nick thundered. He nearly stamped his foot. "I said we're getting married. Just like you begged me for. Where are all the desperate tears now, sweetheart" he spat out, making sure to emphasize each "t". "Liar. Cheater" the words came out slow and deliberate, making sure no one in attendance could miss them. "But you're a lucky lying cheater, little Carla happy at last"

Before anyone knew what was happening, the shoe was off and whipped at Nick's head. "You couldn't have let me get the first shot, baby" Peter made his way to her side, one flung shoe too late.

Winding her arm through Peter's for balance, and for maximum effect as Carla's eyes bore into Nick's, "Good thing there's a second one. Ba-by" she enunciated, lifting her foot in the air for Peter. With a wink, Peter took his time sliding his hands down her leg to remove the other shoe prolonging the agony for Nick. "So many options" Carla stated evenly, her eyes finally resting on Michelle, before moving onto Gail who had her mouth agape, no doubt muttering about the audacity of her not-quite-daughter-in-law. But Peter had other ideas, and soon the pump went flying, all eyes on the arc it made through the air. Punctuated by the shrill squealing of his sister, still stood hovering over the proceedings.

He was rewarded with the smile that graced Carla's face and the approving nod, so much so that he nearly missed his father's exasperated "Oh, Peter" But it didn't matter, and neither did the whispering and gasps, and certainly not the continued shouting from the red-faced groom. For Carla's arm was still linked through his, and didn't seem to be in a hurry to let go. He really wanted to question what appeared to be the Christmas garland adorning her head, but determined this might not be the best time. Instead he tugged lightly and led her away from the shouting not-groom, and by some miracle she went with him.

It could never be that easy. Not for them. A voice called after them. Michelle. They could all be 90, and she would still have an opinion to share on the force of nature that was Peter and Carla.

"Carla, STOP. Think about what you are doing. THIS is why I did it. That man is your kryptonite. He ALWAYS does a number on your head. Think about what you are walking away from"


	3. Chapter 3

Carla paused at this, and looked Michelle in the eye. "Be glad I'm out of shoes" she tossed at her. Then glanced over her shoulder at the life she had literally turned her back on. The life that was perfect. For someone else. And when she turned back around, she let Peter lead her right out the door. Carla looked around anxiously as they stood on the street. She had no idea where she was going to go when she walked out the door, what was next. Peter took in her bare feet sheathed in stalkings, and bent to sweep her off her feet. Carla let out a laugh in shock, and then squawked, "Peter!" at his impetuousness. But secretly she was relieved he was taking the lead. She had allowed Nick to take over her life, more than she had even realized. She no longer felt as confident and in control as she once did. There was no part of her that wanted to rush back into Nick's arms, but she felt utterly lost. And despite everything else, there was a part of her heart that instinctively trusted Peter to take care of her.

After bundling Carla into the front street of the car, there was barely room in the front seat for Peter and Carla and her dress. Smiling at her, Peter suggested, "maybe next time you can go with a more space-saving dress love." But the smile he gave her assured no judgment, and easily lapsed into their long standing light-hearted banter. "Oh, THIS is never happening again," Carla insisted. But as they looked deeply into each other's eyes, they both knew it was a lie.

Peter moved closer to Carla, much too slowly, because the anticipation of having him close enough to feel his breath on her skin made her feel like she was going to explode. And the space was well and truly contained by the two of them, and the poofy dress, which was making her overheated. That was certainly the reason for the fire raging under her skin. Even though the dress was strapless. As Peter reached for her, and moved his head in closer, he ran a finger softly down her cheek. "You look beautiful" he whispered, as a smile crept up on her lips. It froze there, as she wanted to murder him when he pulled back from her and started the engine. Victoria Court was not far and soon he was lifting her into his arms again and taking her inside. It did not escape either of them, as he set her on her feet for the first time since leaving the Bistro, that she'd just been carried over the threshold in her wedding dress by a man who was not currently her husband. Their eyes connected once more, contemplating wishes, regrets, yearning.

In the next moment the spell was broken, Carla swiftly turning away as her eyes filled with tears. Tears that she would not let fall in front of anyone else. Her body filled with a rush of panic and desperation, and she reached behind herself to tug at the zipper of her dress. Soon, tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks, and she couldn't get enough air in to fill her lungs. "Get it off, Peter, help me get it off," she cried frantically, the pitch of her voice going up as despair flooded over her. Peter quickly moved to lower the zipper, and peel the dress away, until it was crumpled on the floor a few feet away. Carla stood silently still as she let Peter remove her stalkings, his hands soft on her legs, somehow making her feel more naked than removing the dress, even though she still stood in her bra and panties. He ached to wrap his arms around her, but he feared making her more distraught. Or worse, sending him away. He settled for lifting the garland from her head and letting her hair fall down into his hands. Carla briefly let her head fall back against his hands, his fingers massaging tenderly against her scalp. Then as she stepped away from him, she turned around, her body shaking and hot tears tumbling down. Clad only in her strapless bra and panties, she seemed unconcerned, as she raised her eyes to latch onto his, as if pleading to save her. For every time they had been apart, for every night she had needed him, imploring him to save her now. Peter couldn't take it any longer, and shrugging off the suit jacket he wore, he gently wrapped it around her, the long sleeves and length engulfing her small frame. Only hesitating for another moment, Peter pulled her against him, one hand holding the back of her head, as he held her tightly. Carla had not pushed him away when he walked toward her in the Bistro. Or when he lifted her off the ground. And she didn't push him away now, as she clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Peter let her stay there as long as she needed, and when she lifted her head off his chest, there was just moonlight shining through the window. Carla sunk her teeth into her lower lip as she contemplated. Peter couldn't take his eyes off her. The mystery of that beautiful mind was hypnotic, and one that he wasn't sure he ever truly needed to solve. As she let her eyes return to his, Carla raised her hands to his collar, letting them settle there a moment as her fingers stroked the collar, before moving lower. Her hands moved slowly over his chest, fingers nimbly moving from button to button, in no hurry. A small smile appeared on her lips. "Don't get too excited Barlow," she whispered, "I just want your shirt" But it was husky and sultry, and both seemed to be breathing in the same breath.

"Don't you…don't you have a drawer full of pajamas in there" Peter stumbled over the words, while gesturing toward her bedroom door.

Carla just nodded. "But I want this" she answered, as if it were perfectly reasonable. There were a dozen things sparkling in her eyes as they stared at each other. But behind it all was a definite glint of desire. One that they both knew would not be denied forever. After she had removed the shirt, Carla turned to drape his jacket over the sofa, and reached around to unhook her bra allowing it to hit the floor. Pausing a moment for him to take in her fully bare back, with just her hair falling down it, Carla listened to Peter breathing heavily and allowed herself a small smile, before turning around with his dress shirt against her soft skin, skimming over her thighs. The appreciation that filled his eyes made her stomach flip flop repeatedly.

"Does he," Peter didn't even want to ask the question. And he definitely didn't want to think of him behind that bedroom door. "Does he live here too"

Carla nodded. "Are you scared" she asked, tilting her head at him.

Peter just rolled his eyes, what he hoped was confidently. "Of Nick Tilsey. Never. Not physically anyway," he scoffed, softly pushing a piece of hair behind Carla's ear. "I would never let him hurt you" he promised, as she smiled at him, her eyes meeting his gratefully. He still made her feel so safe.

"Me very own bodyguard," she smirked.

"I just don't want him to come in here and upset you" Peter added. He knew he would put himself between Carla and anyone that would cause her hurt. He would do anything to make her not cry again.

"Then I have you here for that too" Carla responded softly. Letting her eyes fall briefly, Carla noticed he was now simply dressed in a familiar white-tshirt, having given up his jacket and dress shirt to her, and his tattos were peeking out below the sleeves. Letting her fingers trace over them, as she had so many times before, her eyes returned to his, her gaze settling in deeply. Her eyes were a veil of honesty and vulnerability, as she looked up at him and admitted, "I should hate you. But I can't, I can't hate you tonight" Understanding, and grateful that she kept her guard lowered, Peter held his arms out as Carla went into them.

As much as Carla longed to take Peter by the hand and draw him to her bedroom, she didn't trust the elecricity between them. As much as her life had turned upside down since he walked out of it. As much about her had changed. The sparks that flew all around them had not changed at all. On what was meant to be her wedding night, it did not seem the right time to play with those sparks. So Carla gave Peter a shove toward the couch, intending to move away to enter her bedroom, and douse the simmering heat that threatened to envelope them. But the thought of being away from him made her chest ache, and Carla let her heart lead her to the couch, crawling on top of Peter, who was now laying on his back. Laying her cheek against the heartbeat thudding solidly under the white shirt, Carla let her eyes close, and let out a sigh as his strong arms wrapped around her.

Peter had fallen asleep with the welcome weight of the love of his life against his chest. The only thing separating him from the heaven of her bare legs; the all too thin material of his linen slacks. Her soft hair, still in waves and curls, spilled against his chest, as he threaded his fingers gently through it. Carla had slid her hand into his, before drifting into the security of being in his arms. It was the first thing that alerted him to her absence, followed by the hollow emptiness of his arms. Peter suddenly shot off the couch, at the noise piercing the darkness, as his eyes adusted to the unfamliar room, still only in the early morning hours. "Carla?" he called out, as he heard the noise again, rushing toward it, unsure what he was about to find.


	4. Chapter 4

~*~ Thank you to anyone that is still reading after so long. I struggled with all the dialogue and lack of movement in these chapters, but I wanted Carla to fill Peter in on what he missed in her life since the show never did that. I hope it's not too boring. This is dedicated to Em and Carrie, who are always so kind and encouraging. And Soph, for always helping fill me in on the details of past story lines. I hate the lack of formatting on here. Trying to split up paragraphs a bit more to look less blocky. Let me know if it's better or worse, and what you think :) ~*~

Peter's heart raced as he moved toward the sounds; his eyes scanning the blackness, frantically searching for Carla. Unsure of what he would find in the darkness, but prepared to defend her with his life.

Then Peter's heart dropped when he saw her, sprawled on the floor sobbing hysterically over the discarded dress. Half ripping at it with her hands, half trying to tear it apart with a pair of scissors. Peter approached slowly, holding back his urge to rush forward and drag her away into the safety of his arms. He didn't want to scare her, or see her hurt herself, in her frenzied state.

"Hey, love" he spoke gently; his voice calmed the hysteria raging inside her, as he lowered himself to the floor beside her.

He ran his hand gently down her arm where she had shoved up the sleeves of his shirt, until his hand rested on hers. Lightly stroking her fingers, urging her to let go of the scissors. She let him set them aside; but the torrent of tears did not stop, and her chest heaved as harsh sobs continued to take over her.

Peter's arms encircled her shaking form, and he carefully lifted her onto his lap. Not fighting him, Carla crashed against his chest; his hands stroked her hair, rocking her gently against him.

Every loving stroke of his hand, every soft kiss onto her head, soothed the broken sobs out of her. Slowly Carla lifted her head, easing the tight clutching grip her fingers had on his shirt. Carla's green eyes glistened with unshed tears, searching his for answers to questions he wasn't even sure of.

They soon clouded with sadness. Emptiness. Staring hopelessly into the softest brown eyes she had ever seen. The eyes that had always enchanted her and never left her dreams.

Her voice cracked as she spoke, "Nick is better than you. Nick is better than me"

There was no accusation or cruelty in her solemn eyes, only resolute acceptance. Peter was shaking his head vigorously. He reached out and held her chin in his hands, before sliding his fingers to cradle her cheeks, her soft tears falling over them.

"NO" Peter insisted fiercely, his dark eyes glowing with assurance; keeping absolute eye contact with hers, not letting her gaze drop. "Believe that of me if you have to. But not you. Nick will never be better than you. Not even close"

Carla ached with a need to believe him, but she knew the truth.

Peter's heart shattered as he watched her gaze cling to his. Desperate for him to heal everything that was broken, fill up all the empty spaces. He could see into her soul, see how battered it had become.

The hurt it instilled in him was so deep and crushing; he wanted to close his eyes against the pain clawing at him but he couldn't. He wouldn't break their fragile connection.

Peter knew how badly he had hurt Carla. He spent every day loathing himself for it. He would crawl over broken glass; through fire, if it meant he could take it back.

But looking at her now, he could see that Nick had destroyed her even further. In such an insidious way. Tearing down her beautiful resilient spirit, under guise of being her hero. To feed his own smarmy ego.

It gutted him to the core. Because Peter knew it was only possible because of the devastation he had left. He had sabotaged himself spectacularly, and taken Carla down with him. Left her vulnerable to Nick's controlling self-involved machinations. And it strengthened Peter's resolve to be here. To save the woman he loved with every breath.

Carla stared into Peter's eyes, as he stared back into hers. She felt a sense of unease; knowing he could see her, really see her. See what she had become. And yet a comfort, that finally someone that understood her was really seeing her, for the first time in forever.

She thought maybe that could be Nick. She had let him convince her that he did know her, that he had fixed her. Made her feel human again. Loved. Enough. And that she was nothing without him.

Peter had shattered her into a million pieces. She thought the shards would never go back together again. And then Nick swept in; swept her up, and stuck the pieces back together.

But here, gathered in Peter's strong arms, lost in the eyes that saw her truly, she knew that she was still broken.

And that he was the only one that could really put all her pieces back together again. If she was brave enough to let him. And she didn't feel brave. She was terrified. Because he was also the one that could break her apart again. For good.

There was something about those gentle brown eyes that compelled her to open up. It had always been that way. She had even had to stifle her urge to call him back, after lashing out and forcing him out of the factory, that first night. She had been terrified of his ability to dent at her walls; to WANT to get behind them. To know her. She had ended up sobbing in the bathroom instead.

Like she was now. But this time she didn't push him away.

Swiping at the tears staining her cheeks, Carla spoke softly, as she looked into Peter's eyes; that space where she was safe to say anything.

"I always had to be in charge you know" He smiled back at her. He knew better than anyone.

"I know I was a controlling cow. Bossy, pushy. What Carla wants Carla gets" she said the words sharply, like an attack on each of her flaws.

Peter for his part winced at the last words. Too familiar. He wished he could shove them back into his mouth unsaid. But he reached out to stroke her hand in encouragement.

"I know I drove you away, to.. to" she looked down where his hand was still on hers, unable to get the words out. Unable to look at him.

Peter reached for both of her hands, but she shoved them away, looking up at him, and blazed "Why. Why are you even here Peter"


	5. Chapter 5

Her defenses flew up now; desperately trying to mask the ravaging pain bubbling to the surface. But hot tears raced down her face.

Slowly Peter reached for her hands again. Holding them gently, he leaned his head toward hers, "I'm here for you. I'm here to hold you. I'm here to take your anger. I'm here for you to hate. I'm here"

Carla pulled her hands away again. But to his amazement, she didn't move any further away. And then she launched forward, as her brain was assaulted with the images of Tina. Carla pounded on his chest, as sobs engulfed her.

Peter made no attempts to stop her. Until her movements had ceased, and she was gasping through her heavy sobs. And then he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her to the warmth of his chest. His hand gliding over her hair, as her breathing settled, and she blew out a breath.

"I tried to be different with Nick. Let go of that control. Most of the time anyway," Peter smiled. She was the most complicated person he had ever met, and he wouldn't change it for anything.

"When I was at my lowest, he took over. He took over everything. He made me feel like I could be enough. This time. And now I'm nothing"

More than anything, Peter wanted to assure her that she was wrong. That this thing Nick made her feel was so wrong. But he knew he was to blame for making her feel she wasn't enough. She was everything in the world. Everything that was perfect in his eyes, a piece of heaven on earth he had never deserved. Everything he had tossed away so cruelly; so stupidly.

And she felt so relaxed in his arms. Maybe for the first time since last night. So he did not stumble over words that would never change anything. He just held her, and was grateful to have her in his arms once more. The words she spoke cut Peter to pieces. But there was no caustic inflection in her tone. It was matter of fact. Accepted. Imprinted into her soul.

She leaned against him, and let the words spill from her lips. Her truth. Carla didn't try to move out of his embrace, but let the words fall out.

She told him about the fire. And Amy. How nearly everyone turned against her and treated her like a pariah. How the guilt ate her soul up.

It was when she told him it had been Tracy, he wrenched away from her. Carla was enveloped in sadness at the end of their embrace, but then looked into his bewildered eyes. Peter had heard the basics, but clearly his family had left out a pretty crucial detail.

"TRACY did it?" his bewilderment was turning into fierce anger.

"No one told you?" Carla questioned.

"They knew I'd come back to kill her" Peter seethed.

"And end your sobriety" Carla added. Peter just nodded, as Carla reached out to grip his arms, afraid he was going to leap up right now to kill Tracy. And leave her.

She explained how Tracy hated her, and wanted to kill her because she had everything. She couldn't help the sorrowful look that crossed her face at everything that she had lost. Peter looked at her, incredulous at those words; profoundly aware how those losses chipped away at her, under the polished surface everyone else saw and dismissed so easily.

Taking a breath, she forged forward telling Peter how she had made her way to the cliff at the quarry; intending to end her life. She held onto him, as much to keep him with her, as for strength as tears gathered in her eyes.

"I didn't have you there. I didn't have you there to save me" she cried, the words and the tears tumbling out faster than she could stop them.

She looked into Peter's dark eyes, brimming with tears, before they flung themselves into each other's arms. He held her tightly in his arms, like she had secretly yearned for so many times. All the nights she swore she wouldn't be stubborn; she would let everyone call her weak; if only he would come back and hold her again.

Both thinking back to that fateful day. Carla realizing he was the only one that had ever really saved her. Peter remembering how he felt when he found her; begging her to stay. What it was like to be on the brink of losing her. Squeezing her tighter, thinking of how he nearly lost her again.

As they pulled apart, Peter took her face in his hands, grateful to have her there safe in his arms. Carla instinctively leaned her cheek into his touch.

"Even when I hated you, I needed you to come back and hold me" she admitted, her green eyes soft, as they took ahold of his.

"I wish I had. I should have been here" Peter responded, wishing once more that he could step into the past and do it better. Be better. "I've never stopped wanting to hold you"

Carla's eyes sparkled just that little bit as the corner of her lips turned up, "You would have given me hell. I think even Chelle might have been grateful to have you around. Although maybe she would think you were going to be a bad influence after all"

Peter returned her smile, and gave a "who me" shrug. He had dropped his hand into her lap now, and took a couple of her fingers into his hand, becoming more intrigued.

Carla grinned at him now; charmed by his play at false innocence, against her best efforts. A warmth rose up in her, followed by a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as their eye contact took on a dangerously flirty look.

She wondered if it was inevitable. If she could never be near this man, and not have her heart fall over and over again, no matter what had happened before.

Peter was fighting himself desperately. The grin on her face, the precarious daring look in her eyes, the overwhelming urge to pull her to him and kiss her senseless was so hard to resist.

Carla could see the wanton look in his dark eyes, the way his lips parted. The way his eyes kept dropping to her mouth. She had to admit to being a little disappointed when he held himself back from temptation. So she continued, biting her lip nervously; which did nothing helpful to Peter's quandry, especially since her bare legs were flung across his lap.

"After the fire, everyone hated me. I hated me. And I started gambling" Carla paused as his eyes bulged at her confession.

"You were married to a BOOKIE" Peter exclaimed. "All the times you told me.."

"I know, I know" Carla interrupted, brushing his words away with her hand, "I nearly lost it all. My car, the factory, everything. I was even going to move away"

Her eyes flicked to him, "I wanted to run away to Portsmouth, if I could have faced you" and then looked away as she bared the secret she had told no other person.

And then she continued, barely able to keep the emotion out of her voice, "Aiden stepped in and saved it all, but in the moment I didn't care what happened. The money didn't matter. For those few moments I couldn't think about anything else. I didn't think about what I had done. I couldn't hurt anyone else. I didn't have to be me"

Peter's heart clenched at the last words. He wanted to tell her he should have been there. Again. But they both already knew it. Knew as desperately as they wanted to change the past, they never could.

So Peter lifted both hands to either side of her head, and pressed his lips against her forehead, before leaning his forehead against hers. They were suspended for a long moment.

Breathing the same breaths. Exhaling onto heated skin. Their lips only inches apart.

Their breaths coming faster, when Carla finally spoke. "I needed you" she admitted. Her voice shaky and low. "Especially when Johnny came to me" she added as she pulled back.

Peter had heard through the family grapevine that Carla had a whole new family. Or an old one. He was startled and a bit confused by the news, but was told she seemed comfortably ensconsed with the Connors. But as Peter knew, nothing was rarely as it seemed with this woman.

His head was filled with questions he wasn't sure he would ever get answered. Wasn't sure he even had a right to ask. But Peter could see it in her face now. The torture, the disgust, all of the whirl of feelings she had long pressed down. It was most definitely not as it seemed.

Carla slid her hands through her hair, tugging at the roots nervously, before raising her eyes to his, looking utterly lost. She had no idea how to even start.

Peter was exceedingly gentle and patient, sliding one of her hands into his, stroking his thumb over her palm to steady her. "Just start, love" he encouraged.

Carla nodded with a small smile. "It was a random Monday just after Christmas. He wouldn't let me leave until he got it out. And then he just came out and said I'm your dad. Like some back street Darth Vader, I'm your dad. Said he tried to DO - RIGHT", Carla strung out the words in a single breath, as if she could escape them, only slowing to emphasize the finals words. Watching Peter's eyes grow at them.

"Do Right" Peter's words were just as even and measured. "Like HE KNEW" Carla just nodded, mesmerized by the growing anger and outrage that so matched those deep inside her. That no one else had understood. Watching him, as his hand gently squeezed hers; his muscles rippling in his arm as his other hand made it's way into an angry fist.

"He KNEW how you grew up. He could have…" Peter spat out, raging that Carla didn't have to grow up with the pain that she did. That this man could have made it better.

Carla nodded with eyes full of tears; for the loss that Johnny could never make right, for the feeling of understanding washing over her that somehow soothed the gaping wounds that were still unhealed, from Johnny ripping her world apart.

She interrupted Peter, before he could get there, brokenly admitting "He let me marry Paul, he let me be with…" She couldn't even say the name, but she didn't have to.

His hand was squeezing hers tighter as the anger flowed through him and he was starting to get up.

Carla shook her head fiercely, grabbing both of his arms tightly. He couldn't leave her now. Tears coursed down her cheeks and Peter understood. He took Carla's face in his hands. She wouldn't let him pull her into his arms, but she buried her face into his neck and he held her there as she let the sobs out.

Looking back up at him, her voice hoarse, "Aren't you going to ask. Why. Then. Cuz I did" she asked Peter quietly.

Peter just looked down into her face, waiting for her to continue.

"Rob" she finally uttered his name. "He was blackmailing Johnny. Rob is the only reason Johnny ever said" she spoke it matter of fact, but was unable to keep the hurt from shredding her voice.

Peter's heart crumbled at the words. The pain that flashed across her face. And he wanted to crush them both. He clung to the slightest thread of hope. "But Rob, are you sure? It's Rob"

Carla nodded, "Yeah I had hope too. But Johnny, he stole my DNA and ran a test. Rob was a sod but he weren't lying. I were Johnny's dirty little secret and me brother decided to cash in. And get his pound 'a flesh at the same time"

Her sorrowful expression stabbed him in his soul. Johnny may have never said it, but the revolting way he made her feel dirty was etched in her face.

Peter drew his fingers across her cheeks, wanting nothing more than to stroke away the repulsion and agony haunting her exquisite features.

Green eyes full of hurt lifted to his. "We saw him pretty often. We even had a holiday together. He was never that far way. He could have been here after what Frank did. But he weren't." Carla's voice shook as the words escaped and Peter tenderly pulled her against his chest.

"He could have been here when we lost our baby girl" her words were so soft and reverent. She was never spoken of. "But he weren't" and twin tears trickled down both their faces.

And suddenly Carla's hands were shoving against Peter's chest and she leapt from his lap. Her defenses were sky high and her green eyes now blazed at him.


	6. Chapter 6

~*~ This chapter is rated M for semi-smut. But there is a whopper cliffhanger at the end :) Please let me know what you think ~*~

In truth, Peter had expected it. He was only surprised it had taken this long. But what he didn't know, what he didn't understand, was Carla had not fled from his embrace in rage. It was not hate that led her to stare him down with her most desperate of masks.

The loss of their baby girl and his betrayal with Tina were such a tightly tangled ball of emotion, and Carla had never managed to pull out one thread without tangling it further into the other.

As they cried together for the beautiful girl they had both grown to love; to want more than their next breath, Carla was bombarded with a mental slide show of Peter and Tina.

Tina making Peter smile in the way that made Carla's heart feel like it could expand out of her chest. The softness in his brown eyes gazing at Tina. His dark glint of desire raking over Tina's body as he pulled her clothes off. The descent of his mouth to hers. And then she could not take another image.

But her body was not poised to punch him. Or scratch his eyes out. Or even to shove him away as she had.

Every ounce of her yearned to throw herself unequivocally into his arms.

Crash her lips against his. Grind down on him.

All Carla wanted was to lie down with the man that should still be her husband, and let him pound the torturous pictures from her brain. Right on that spot.

The separation of nothing but a meager scrap of lace and thin linen between them, was not not helping and not nearly enough to quiet the quaking desires.

And Carla shoved him away before she gave in. But it would not last long.

Peter was soon on his feet after her. He knew the possibility of her hitting him was a very real one. But he knew he would take whatever she had to give him.

He knew every defense and every wall this woman had. And he wasn't going to let her push him away. He wasn't going to walk away from her again.

But Peter was not as prepared as he thought for what Carla had to give. This woman he knew inside and out could still surprise him.

And she did just that when she launched herself at him and her lips crashed into his.

It was woefully too brief. His brain had not had time to catch up, but that did not stop Peter from returning the devouring kiss with the love of his life, before she had stumbled backwards.

She placed an excruciating distance between them, but her eyes never left his. They were filled with fire and need and desperation.

"Make it go away, please make it go away" Carla mumbled incoherently, and then she was back in his arms.

Hunger matching hunger, as her body pressed flush against his, mouths open and demanding. Tongues circling and teasing, tangling and unrelenting.

Peter dragged his hands into Carla's hair, pushing it up her head in waves, as his mouth slanted incessantly against hers. He couldn't get enough of the sweetness of her plump lips, or the fiery swirl of her tongue, or the way she tugged and sucked on his.

Their lips only parted long enough to drag more air into their lungs before they reclaimed each other, leaving moans to pass between them.

Peter let Carla's hair fall from his hands to make their way to her hips and lifted her as their kisses grew deeper and wilder. Carla's legs wound around him as she threw her arms around his neck, her fingers scraping at the hair and skin there.

She ground her hips against him needfully, and felt him swelling and hardening in return. Her hands impatiently pushed his shirt up, spreading her hands over his chest, craving the feel of his skin.

Peter had gotten the shirt covering Carla unbuttoned half way when he dragged his mouth down her neck and onto her chest in a trail of hot wet needy kisses.

His package strained urgently against her; making her ache to be filled in a way she hadn't in years, and her hands fell to release his belt buckle.

So lost in each other, they never heard the key in the lock. And Carla had barely slid down his body to return to the floor, when the door was pushed open and the voice thundered out.

"I should have known. You been at it all night have you" Nick spit out with a sneer. An eyeful with the sneer, as he took in their state of undress.

Carla stumbled forward, trying to rebutton the shirt, aware that Nick's eyes were roaming her bare legs. "Nick, this isn't what…" Carla started before he cut her off.

"More lies then" Nick growled, until his eyes fell on the tattered dress still on the floor. Disgusted, he gritted his teeth as Peter, pulling down his shirt and buckling his belt, moved closes to Carla protectively.

"I tried to warn you," Carla implored Nick, "I told you I would hurt you. I told you. I am a disaster" Her voice was defeated and she sounded lost. And so so far away.

Nick just nodded as if in agreement. "I guess I'll come back for my things when it's a less BUSY time for you. I'll let Robert know it's his turn. Again" Nick shot out before the door slammed behind him.

Peter reached for Carla, but it was too late. She turned around but held back from him. And worse, Peter saw the emptiness and resignation return to her eyes. Carla suddenly looked so small and fragile draped in his shirt.

He tried to wrap his arms around her but she pulled back. Carla let her hands press lightly against his chest, and move down it, before letting go.

Conflict flashed in her eyes but she shook her head at Peter, "You should go" she announced in what she hoped was a firm no-nonsense voice. But she quickly turned and moved to the door without looking back at him.

When she reached the door and turned around, she found him shaking his head and refusing "I'm not going. I'm not leaving you like this"

Carla opened her mouth to object that she was fine, but stopped as Peter advanced toward her, stopping a few feet from her. And not moving. Or looking away.

As they stared at each other, the heat rose and both felt their skin prickle as waves of desire built and crested. Peter wasn't sure if Carla was going to launch forward and smack him; or kiss him. He felt more certain as he watched the pink rise in her cheeks, the flick of desire light her green eyes, and the way her lips puffed into a desirous pout. But she did not move.

They had been here countless times before. Stubborn meeting stubborn. The stand off. There was really only one way it would end. With clothing being ripped off. So she moved away from the door with a shrug.

"Fine then" she aimed for nonchalance. "I'll just take a shower" and she swayed past him.

He was turned away, but she knew he would be looking as she swung her hips and tossed back her hair. And she knew as much as she was aching for release, he would be suffering just as much. Knowing exactly what she was doing in the shower.

Peter did watch her. He watched her until she had nearly disappeared.

Then she turned back and fixed him with a lusty gaze. "But you're not getting your shirt back" she vowed as she stripped it off and disappeared from sight.

Peter sunk down onto the couch, unable to stop his imagination from joining her in the next room.

As Carla walked through her bedroom into the bathroom, she flung the shirt petulantly onto the floor.

But after a moment, she picked it up and ran her hand thoughtfully over the fabric, before carefully laying it across her bed and bringing a robe with her.

With a sigh, she returned to the bathroom. That man was so far under her skin, and embedded in her soul, it was hopeless.

Carla stepped into the shower, letting the water stream through her long hair, coaxing the tangles out of the waves.

Allowing the water to cascade over her body, she dragged her thumbs over her nipples until they were erect in stiff peaks.

Her hands stroked over her skin, curving over her stomach and then sliding up her thighs. Closing her eyes, she let herself feel Peter's strong skillful hands on her, as her fingers dipped into her folds.

She could nearly feel the scruff of his beard against her delicate skin. Carla moaned out as she thrust her fingers upward, moving her thumb to her clit. She was already on fire, and more than ready.

Curling her fingers and rubbing her nub; she could imagine Peter's deep voice whispering to her; his breath, his lips on her neck.

She thrust her fingers harder, curling again, flicking and massaging her clit until her muscles clenched around her fingers.

Gasping as the heat spread, she kept stroking harder and faster until she gushed release around her fingers and let out a cry, moaning Peter's name.

She hoped he could hear her. And if he couldn't, she hoped he imagined that he could.

She was not wrong. Peter had not seen nor touched the naked body of the woman he adored in more than two years. But his memory was perfect.

His head in his frustrated hands, he could envision every curve of her luscious body under the spray of water. He could see her hands where he longed to be. The way Carla looked when she let go. And with everything in him, he prayed that his name fell from her lips.

Carla eyed the journal in her bedroom as she threaded her fingers through her damp hair. Her eyes flitted to the shirt on the bed but quickly returned to the journal as she let out a gasp. A gasp that was more like a squeal. It couldn't be. She couldn't be. COULD NOT.

Carla tightened the robe and nearly flew back into the bathroom, desperately digging to the bottom of the drawer, before pulling the test out. Triumph. And dread.

Something she hadn't needed in a very long time, but there had been a scare. With Nick. But it had been a false alarm and she never used the test.

She had been completely relieved. And felt guilty of it. And refused to admit the truth. She could not have a baby with him.

She could only have a baby with one man. And he was sat just yards away on her couch.

Well he was. Until he heard her cry out and then the ensuing noise in her desperate search. And she marched back into her bedroom, not yet ready to find out, terrified beyond belief.

And that's where he found her when he burst through the door. With the pregnancy test in her hand.


End file.
